


Duty Calls

by Aneiria



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Anal Sex, Crime Lord Tom Riddle, Crimes & Criminals, Dom Tom Riddle, Dubious Consent, F/M, Light BDSM, Restraints, Smut, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Tom Riddle is His Own Warning, Undercover, undercover Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:00:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24409210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aneiria/pseuds/Aneiria
Summary: Riddle was standing in the same spot, his finger crooked towards her and beckoning her back to him. With a gulp Hermione walked back to where he stood. He lowered his hand and smiled as she stood still before him.‘Good girl,’ he purred, and Hermione bristled inside. ‘Now, on your knees.’Hermione stared at him in disbelief for a second, until he raised an eyebrow and pointedly looked down at the floor at his feet. Fury building up inside her, Hermione lowered herself to the floor, the thick carpet soft under her knees.One quick blow job, and her cover would stay intact, and by the end of the night Riddle would be in custody.She could do this.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle
Comments: 20
Kudos: 402
Collections: Tomione Smut Fest 2020





	Duty Calls

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [TomioneSmutFest20](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TomioneSmutFest20) collection. 



> Hello everyone! This one-shot was written for the 'Undercover' prompt for the Tomione Smutfest 2020 and it does what it says on the tin...
> 
> Tagged dub-con as Hermione pretty much has to have sex with Tom FOR HER COVER OK.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Hermione Granger took a deep breath in front of the mirror, adjusting the red silk bra she was wearing and straightening her garter belt and her stockings. Her long hair was braided down one shoulder, her eyes smoky and lined and her lips painted red, and she wore a black leather collar with a silver ring around her neck. She pulled on her five-inch black patent heels and stood tall.

After four weeks of working undercover in Slytherin’s Dungeon, Hermione knew she should feel more comfortable in her ‘uniform’ by now, but she thought she would never be used to being this physically exposed, admired only for her body rather than her mind. 

At least she had managed to avoid actually dancing in this place. Hermione mainly just served drinks. Served drinks, and watched _him_. 

Plastering a bright, empty smile on her face, she turned on her reflection and stalked out to the floor. Pausing at the bar to gather a silver tray of filled champagne flutes, she carefully balanced it on her palm and balanced herself on her heels before snaking between the other patrons for the table she wanted. 

He was there, as expected. 

Tom Marvolo Riddle. 

The crime syndicate lynchpin who was responsible for almost all serious organised crime in London. Hermione’s team had been after him for years, and today was the day they were finally going to get him. 

She handed champagne to his associates. The usual three were here tonight, all of them wanted criminals in their own rights.

Wormtail, the simpering, stout man that seemed to follow Riddle like a lost puppy was wanted for questioning about the murder of two other undercover agents.

Nagini, with dark eyes and darker hair hanging straight as a knife down to her waist, was a reputed poisons expert and highly sought-after assassin.

Barty Crouch Junior was a particularly nasty piece of work, murdering his own father, who worked in a department next to Hermione’s, before Barty Crouch Senior could arrest his own son.

Hermione suppressed a shiver. However bad these three were, they were nothing compared to their boss.

Hermione turned and handed the last glass to Riddle. He took it without looking at her, but his fingers brushed against hers as he reached for the stem of the glass. She took a step back, the silver tray empty. 

Riddle was incredibly handsome, in a dangerous kind of way. Dark, almost black hair, intelligent green eyes with just a dash of ice to them. He was controlling, and violent: more than once on her stakeout Hermione had seen him casually knife the man he was meeting with, clearly unhappy with whatever terms they had offered.

Rumour had it that whenever he murdered someone personally, Riddle took a memento from their body. The black-stoned ring he always wore on his little finger was reputed to have been his mother’s, taken from her body when he had executed her for betraying him one day. 

Around them, the music thudded heavily and girls wearing even skimpier outfits than Hermione’s spun elegantly around poles and grinded on patron’s laps. Hermione wandered back to the bar, keeping a careful eye on Riddle and his associates. 

Tonight was their night. Riddle was there to meet a potential colleague, actually one of Hermione’s team also working undercover. Once the meeting was underway, the rest of their team would storm the Dungeon, arresting Riddle once and for all. Hermione just had to keep an eye on him until then.

The group finished their champagne quickly, and Hermione opened a new bottle, gathering another tray to take it over to them. When she handed Riddle his drink this time, he looked directly at her. 

Hermione tried not to give anything away when his sharp gaze trailed up her body and fastened on her eyes. He was dressed in an immaculate dark suit, a crisp white shirt beneath the jacket and waistcoat that were clearly custom cut for the long, elegant lines of his body. The black-stoned ring glinted on his hand as he laid it on Hermione’s forearm. 

‘I’ve seen you around these last few weeks,’ Riddle said just loud enough to be heard over the music. Turning away from his associates, he moved closer to Hermione, leaning down to speak into her ear. His breath against her skin made goosebumps rise over her body. 

‘I’m Tom,’ he said, needlessly. ‘What’s your name?’ He stroked his long fingers along the skin of her arm as he spoke, and she struggled to keep her voice calm. 

‘Cassandra,’ she replied, finally remembering to flash him a flirty smile. ‘Pleasure to meet you, sir.’ 

His eyes glinted when she addressed him as sir. He let his hand wander up to her collarbone, his fingers dancing over her skin. 

‘Cassandra.’ He lingered over the double S in her undercover name, as if caressing the syllables. ‘Beautiful name.’ Riddle downed his champagne and set the empty glass down before turning back to Hermione. ‘Beautiful indeed,’ he murmured, and crooked a finger towards her. ‘Why don’t you come with me, Cassandra.’ 

Hermione’s mind momentarily went blank as Riddle grasped her arm firmly but gently and started to walk her away from his associates. They were approaching a door next to the stage, where two of the dancers that Hermione had never learned names for were twirling around silver poles. Her heart tripped up over itself as she realised where they were heading, and she tried to pull back, to protest. 

‘I don’t really – I’m mean I’m not -’ 

Riddle slowed and looked back at her with interest. ‘Hmm. As far as I understood, every girl at Slytherin’s was available to patrons. I suppose I could go and find Salazar to check, he’s always been a reasonable man.’ 

‘No!’ Hermione’s response was quick and alarmed. The last thing she needed was to come face to face with Salazar Slytherin, the owner of the club. Hermione’s handler had managed to get her this role without his involvement, and she couldn’t risk anything that might cause Riddle to be suspicious. Not tonight. 

Hermione took a deep breath. She could do this. She just had to keep Riddle busy until his contact arrived and her team stormed the place. She _could_ do this. She plastered the brightest smile she could onto her face. 

‘I just meant, I’m not as… experienced as some of the other girls here. If you want a good time, I could maybe recommend -’ 

‘No, you’ll do just fine. Cassandra,’ Riddle’s voice purred like a tiger about to eviscerate its prey. His hold on her arm tightened and he pulled her the rest of the way to the door. 

Stumbling slightly on her tall heels when they crossed the threshold and Riddle closed the door behind them, Hermione took in her surroundings and tried to calm her racing heart. She’d managed to never come into any of the back rooms of the Dungeon, and she gulped when she saw the four-poster bed against the back wall, the hooks and loops for restraints dangling from the canopy and the posts, the cabinets and drawers and benches that lined the walls. A large frame hung with restraints dominated the rest of the room. As she was staring, Riddle was taking off his jacket, hanging it carefully from a hook, and unbuttoned his shirtsleeves. 

'Tell me, Cassandra,’ he said nonchalantly, rolling his sleeves up to his elbow. ‘What is your particular specialty here?’ 

Hermione stared at him blankly, trying not to tremble on her heels. He walked closer to her, loosening the silver and green tie around his neck, and she forced herself to keep her arms by her side and not try to cover up her relative nakedness. 

‘My specialty?’ she repeated, mentally kicking herself for sounding stupid. Hermione Granger did not like sounding stupid. 

Riddle’s smile was cold. 

‘Well, everyone knows to ask for Amber if they want to be tied down and dominated for the evening. And rumour has it that Ruby gives the best head this side of the Thames. There must be something you’re renowned for?’ 

Hermione shook her head. ‘Not really,’ she said quietly. ‘I told you, I’m not particularly experienced compared to most of the other girls here.’ 

‘Well then,’ Riddle said as he twirled one of her loose curls around his finger. ‘Let’s play, shall we?’ 

Hermione turned and started to walk towards the bed, trying to keep her racing mind under control, when Riddle’s voice interrupted her. 

‘Where do you think you’re going, Cassandra?’ 

She stopped and slowly turned. Riddle was standing in the same spot, his finger crooked towards her and beckoning her back to him. With a gulp she walked back to where he stood. He lowered his hand and smiled as she stood still before him. 

‘Good girl,’ he purred, and Hermione bristled inside. ‘Now, on your knees.’ 

Hermione stared at him in disbelief for a second, until he raised an eyebrow and pointedly looked down at the floor at his feet. Fury building up inside her, Hermione lowered herself to the floor, the thick carpet soft under her knees.

She could do this.

One quick blow job, and her cover would stay intact, and by the end of the night Riddle would be in custody.

Riddle unzipped his trousers and let his dick spring free, making Hermione’s breath catch in her throat. Riddle was huge, much bigger than any of her previous boyfriends, and _beautiful_ , slightly curved and pale and veined as if he were carved from marble. She was so busy staring she didn’t react for a few moments, until Riddle took himself in his hand and traced her slightly parted lips with the head of his dick.

‘Open up, Cassandra,’ he said, his voice quiet. She obediently opened her mouth and let him feed his dick into her, breathing deeply when he hit the back of her throat. She closed her mouth around him and started to suck, gripping his thighs for balance as he wrapped his fists in her hair.

When she looked up at him she saw his head was thrown back, his eyes closed. He groaned and tightened his grip in her hair, making her wince. ‘Well now, don’t you have a talented mouth.’ The bastard sounded barely affected, his voice steady, and Hermione frowned and swirled her tongue around his shaft, taking him deeper. Anything to try and gain some semblance of control over him.

All too soon she felt him tense in her mouth and she felt a flare of triumph at making him come, choosing to ignore the other feeling of – disappointment? Disappointment that she wasn’t going to be able to feel his cock inside her and come under his hands.

But just as she braced herself to feel his come down her throat, Riddle pulled his cock from her mouth and held himself still.

‘I’m not done with you yet,’ he said to her with a voice heavy with lust and sin, and Hermione felt her core clench deliciously with his words. ‘Stand up.’

She did as she was told, and Riddle reached a hand down to cup her cunt, a wicked grin on his face. She felt her cheeks burn as she realised he would be able to feel how wet she was through her knickers.

‘Did sucking my cock turn you on? Feels like it did. Want to feel my dick deep inside you, don’t you?’ He was looking at her, clearly expecting an answer, and Hermione nodded frantically – just playing along, just until her team arrived.

‘Yes.’

Hermione whimpered as Riddle pinched her between the legs.

‘Yes, _sir_ ,’ he corrected sharply, and Hermione felt a new rush of arousal flood her.

‘Yes, sir,’ she replied meekly, looking down to the ground.

‘Good girl,’ he purred, running his fingers up over her so they brushed her aching clit before running up over her stomach. He hooked a finger through the metal ring on her collar and pulled her along, leading her to the large wooden frame.

He bent her over the sturdy frame, tying her wrists and ankles to the posts.

‘I don’t think - ’ she started, helpless, but Riddle tutted lightly and slapped her ass, the sting making her stop her sentence in shock.

‘You don’t need to think, sweetheart,’ he said in a patronising tone, and when he walked in front of her Hermione saw he had something in his hands. She looked up at him in horror but his smile just widened. He leaned down, gripping her jaw in his hands, and kissed her deeply, his tongue demanding access to her mouth. When he pulled away again he slid the gag in place, tying it securely. When it was done he straightened, took a step back, and sighed happily. ‘So beautiful,’ he whispered, reaching out to trail his fingers along her cheek.

Hermione tried not to panic. Her team would be here soon, all she had to do was keep Riddle here. She almost laughed to herself as that thought floated through her head. As if she were in a position to make him do anything right now!

Riddle moved behind her and his palm stroked the curve of her ass before slapping her again, hard, rocking her body against the frame and the bonds that held her in place. She felt his fingers trace the outline of her cunt through her silk knickers before he pushed them aside.

She knew he had an unobstructed view of her, of _all_ of her, tied as she was and unable to close her legs even slightly. There was another movement from behind her, and moments later Riddle’s hands pulled her thighs apart even more and his hot, hungry mouth fell on her cunt. She let out a muffled groan around her gag as he lapped at her, drinking the juices that had gathered there regardless of her feelings of fear and powerlessness.

He didn’t let her come, instead pulling back and kissing and biting and back of her thighs when she started to tense and tremble. After the third time, when she would have been desperately begging if she wasn’t gagged, she heard him stand up behind her and in one swift move he’d sunk himself to the hilt inside of her cunt.

Hermione moaned wantonly as he stilled for a moment, her cunt stretching deliciously around his girth, but that was the only respite he gave her. He started pounding into her, his fingers digging into her hips, the angle of his dick hitting her g-spot hard each time he filled her. Her body rocked helplessly against the frame each time, her breasts jiggling with each thrust, and Riddle released one of his hands from her hip to reach around and grab hold of one of her breasts instead.

‘Your tight little cunt is so wet for me,’ Riddle said through gritted teeth, squeezing her breast in his hand before pinching her nipple between his fingers, a shooting thread of pain and pleasure twisting through her when he did. He thrust hard again, and Hermione knew that this time she would come, helplessly, impaled on Riddle’s dick. She whimpered around the gag and arched back against him as best she could with the restraints, frustrated tears leaking from her eyes, but Riddle suddenly pulled away, his dick gone, leaving her walls clenching around nothing and her body shaking and unsatisfied.

From behind her Riddle laughed, and she heard a quiet click of something – a bottle? – being opened.

‘Don’t worry, sweetheart,’ Riddle said, and she jumped slightly as his cold, lubed fingers ran over her asshole. ‘You’ll get to come before we’re done. I’m not that cruel.’

Hermione struggled against her bonds, feeling very hot all over her body. She had a horrible suspicion she knew what Riddle was planning next, and she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about it. Sure enough, after tracing her entrance he slid one finger into her ass, gently stretching her and fingering her until he added a second.

‘Have you ever had your ass fucked, Cassandra?’ Riddle asked nonchalantly as he added a third finger, knowing full well she couldn’t answer. ‘No? Don’t worry. I have a feeling you’re going to love it.’

With that he withdrew his fingers and the next moment she felt the head of his dick tracing against her instead, probing at her until Riddle started to slowly push himself in.

Hermione held her breath as he worked himself into place, her heart racing. She was so tight, and he was so _big_ , and she had never felt so full in her life. The indignation of Riddle doing _this_ to her when she couldn’t say no was tempered by the humiliating realisation that she had never been so turned on in her life.

As she felt his groin flush against her ass, and knew he was buried to the hilt inside of her, she groaned again, now glad of the gag that stopped her from begging him to fuck her. As if he could read her mind, he anchored himself against her hips and began to slowly move in and out of her, pushing back in all the way with each thrust.

Oh _god_. Hermione found herself pushing back against him as far as she could, taking as much as him as she could, and in response Riddle started fucking her hard again, a rhythmic pounding that seemed to match her heartbeat. He reached around and between her legs, finally touching her clit, and she moaned so loudly even the gag couldn’t stifle it. 

‘That’s it, good girl,’ Riddle’s voice was smooth, sultry, not at all laboured as he carried on fucking her ass and fingering her clit. She whimpered and arched as her cunt started to clench. ‘Come for me, Hermione,’ he ordered, and she did, her muffled cry loud and strangled as her body tremored and her head went fuzzy.

Riddle thrust even harder, and then his fingers around her hip dug in and he groaned as he buried himself in her one last time. She felt his dick pulsing as he came deep inside her. 

He was already gently pulling his dick out of her when her eyes flew open in horror, realisation dawning on her.

Riddle had used her name.

Her _real_ name.

Trying to hide her alarm and the pit of dread curling in her stomach, Hermione tried to loosen the bonds that held her wrists in place, to no avail. 

‘Oh, Hermione,’ Riddle sighed as he ran his hands over her ass. ‘I’m surprised you lied to me about who you were, but even more surprised it took you this long to figure out I knew.’ 

Hermione fought against the gag to protest but Riddle just laughed, bending down to retrieve something nearby. She tried to turn her head to see what he was doing, but a firm hand grabbed her hair and held her in place. She felt something cold rub against her asshole and when it started to push inside of her, she froze. She couldn’t help the groan that tore from her throat as the plug breached her and slid in place. 

‘There,’ Riddle said, satisfaction clear in his voice. ‘My come in your ass. Something for you to remember me by.’ 

She squawked in outrage around the gag and she felt the cool brush of fabric against her cunt and realised he had pulled her knickers back into place. 

‘Darling, I’m afraid I have to leave you now.’ Riddle finally walked in front of her. He was already buttoning up his trousers, barely a hair out of place. He looked impeccable, whereas his satisfied smile told Hermione she looked as wrecked as she felt. Tom’s hand reached out and his fingers trailed over her lips and the gag in her mouth. 

‘Beautiful,’ he murmured. He stepped back. ‘Tell your friends I was sorry to miss them,’ he said insincerely, and then Tom Marvolo Riddle was gone, leaving Hermione tied and gagged and dripping with his seed.

Thank goodness it had been Ginny that had found her and not one of the boys, in those minutes after Tom had left and Hermione’s team had stormed the Dungeon. The raid had been a complete failure, Riddle and all of his associates gone by the time Hermione’s colleagues had arrived.

She’d gone with Ginny to the station, sat through an excruciatingly embarrassing interview where she’d stuck to the facts and glossed over the details as much as possible, and filed her report before finally stumbling home.

Hermione woke late next morning, wrapping herself in her dressing gown and putting a strong pot of coffee on to brew. While she was waiting, she caught sight of something fluttering outside her door, and cautiously opened it to find….

The biggest bunch of red roses she’d ever seen in her life.

Hermione’s street was empty, with no sign of who had left them. She picked them up and retreated back inside, carrying them through to the kitchen. The roses were perfect, so perfect it was as if someone had individually flocked each velvety red petal. A small card was nestled among the flowers, and Hermione retrieved it, wincing as a thorn caught on her finger, tearing the skin. A red pearl of blood bloomed.

Beautiful, and dangerous. She knew who the roses were from. 

His script was elegant, copperplated. She sat down at her kitchen table, her heart thumping uncomfortably as she read.

_My darling Hermione,_

_Please forgive my terribly rude departure last night – I’m sure you can understand that while I found your company delightful, I had no desire to acquaint myself with any of your colleagues. Still, it was an unseemly thing for a gentleman to do and I hope I may earn your forgiveness._

_Perhaps dinner, tonight at the Savoy? I made us a reservation for 8pm._

_T.M.R_

_PS – Wear a red dress. I find myself rather enamoured of that colour on you._

Hermione sat silently regarding Riddle’s note for a long time, her coffee slowly cooling beside her. After a while, a slow smile curled across her lips. Well, she did still have a job to do, didn’t she? Hermione Granger had long ago promised herself she would not rest until Tom Riddle was safely under lock and key. If he was going to hand himself on a silver platter to her, well.

Duty calls. 


End file.
